Artists. Designers. Makers.

I have never been interested in owning things as much as understanding them. I often choose to make what I could simply buy because making creates a more intimate relationship with an object. I come to know its structure, resistance and logic from within: why it takes the form it does, how its parts depend upon one another and where it might be improved. Making is how I think. It turns curiosity into something tangible and allows an idea to be held, examined and refined.

I notice proportion before almost anything else. Lines, volumes, angles and the spaces between them determine whether an object or an interior feels resolved. A line that is even a degree out can disturb the balance of the whole; once I see it, I find it difficult to leave alone. I look from every possible angle, considering how a surface receives light, how a material changes the apparent weight of a form and how one detail alters everything around it. I am interested in the point at which precision stops feeling technical and becomes instinctive—when something simply feels right.

My understanding of objects began with jewellery design at art school in Poland. Working at an intimate scale taught me to think through material, precision and the relationship between an object and the body. I later moved to Chicago to study interior architecture, expanding those questions into space, structure and movement. While still in my second year, I joined the Chicago office of Skidmore, Owings & Merrill. Its clarity, rigour and conviction that every line, proportion and junction matters became one of the defining influences of my life.

Graphic design followed, eventually leading to a degree from the Academy of Fine Arts. It sharpened my understanding of composition and visual order, while painting and sculpture kept the relationship between hand, material and intuition present. Moving between disciplines never felt like changing direction. Each offered another scale through which to examine the same concerns: proportion, structure, material and the translation of an idea into physical form.

Good design is a solution to a problem first. Function provides the foundation, but it is not the conclusion. Once something fulfils its purpose, I become interested in the qualities that are harder to measure: the balance of its proportions, the character of its material, the texture of a surface and the way light moves across it. The objects that remain with us may be reduced to a line, a curve or a simple square, yet continue to hold the eye because every part feels considered and nothing can be taken away without diminishing the whole. Simplicity is demanding because it leaves nowhere for uncertainty to hide.

Material is often the starting point rather than the final choice. Its density, translucency, grain, softness or resistance can determine the line of an object and the direction of the design itself. At times I design almost entirely to express the character of a material—to let wax transmit light, to allow stone to retain its weight or to give a surface enough restraint for its texture to become visible. A drawing can establish intention, but direct contact reveals what the drawing cannot. Through the hand, the material answers back.

Although I value control, I do not expect the process to remain fixed. A material may behave differently, a proportion may shift or a tool may leave a trace that suggests a better direction. I refine until the work feels right, but the most convincing result often retains something unexpected. I rarely consider anything permanently finished. Completion is a brief moment: the point at which a work feels resolved enough to leave the studio. Every object contributes to the next.

Through ESCLUSSO, I bring together the disciplines and experiences that have shaped my life—art, jewellery, architecture, interiors, graphic design, photography and making. Every object is conceived, developed and handcrafted together with Meg. We approach the world differently, and that difference is essential to the work. Meg’s practice begins with close observation of nature, light and the ephemeral. Mine is driven by structure, proportion, material and a persistent need to understand how an idea can be made real. Between those perspectives, the work finds its balance.

For me, the value of an object lies not only in what it is, but in the thought, judgement and human attention held within it. I continue to make things I could simply buy because making offers something ownership cannot: the possibility of knowing an object from within. Each work becomes another material understood and another opportunity to arrive at something that feels both inevitable and unexpected.

I have always had a deep appreciation for the quiet beauty of the natural world - its delicate balance, its continual transformation and the fleeting moments that so often pass unnoticed. My work is an invitation to pause, to look more closely and to recognise the extraordinary in what is easily overlooked.

Wax is a material suspended between permanence and disappearance. It has accompanied humanity for thousands of years - as a medium for artists, a source of light and a material of preservation. I am drawn to this enduring history and to the idea that such an ancient substance can still speak in a contemporary language. Working with wax feels less like choosing a medium than joining a conversation that has unfolded across centuries, carrying its history into forms that belong to our own time.

My artistic journey began in Poland, where I studied painting, drawing and sculpture before specialising in jewellery. Before continuing with a BA in Interior Design at Chelsea College of Art & Design in London, I travelled to Japan to study ceramics and the philosophy of ikebana. There I encountered an aesthetic rooted in restraint, balance and an appreciation of the fleeting nature of things. Those ideas have remained with me ever since, quietly shaping both my work and the way I observe the world.

When wax entered my practice during my years in London, it felt less like discovering a new material than recognising one that had been waiting for me all along. I began working with flat sheets of wax, painting onto them with layers of coloured wax much as a painter builds a canvas. Unlike paint, wax possesses an inner luminosity. Light travels through it, revealing colour with a depth that changes throughout the day and responds to its surroundings. It became the material through which everything I had been searching for - light, colour, form and nature - could come together.

ESCLUSSO was founded later in Chicago and continues today from my studio in London’s Design District. Here I create sculptural candles and wax objects that exist between art and function, sculpture and ritual. Each piece is made entirely by hand through a slow and deliberate process where no gesture can be repeated exactly. My work is not intended simply to occupy a space, but to shape its atmosphere through light, material and quiet presence.

I have always been fascinated by what is easily overlooked or quickly lost: the delicate architecture of a seed, the veins of a leaf, changing light, the subtle rhythms of the seasons. Rather than resisting impermanence, my work seeks to honour it - to pause it briefly, allowing us to look a little longer. Colour is never applied for ornament. It is gathered through travel, curiosity, and close observation of the natural world and places that exist somewhere between memory and dream.

The Botanicals collection extends this exploration by suspending delicate plants within translucent wax. These are not specimens, but quiet moments held in suspension - fragments of the natural world that invite reflection on time, beauty and the continual cycle of transformation. Wax, with its own delicate balance between permanence and change, becomes both the medium and the metaphor.

Across sculpture, painting, jewellery, ceramics and wax, my practice has remained guided by a single intention: to create objects that encourage stillness and attentive looking. I believe beauty often resides in what is most fleeting, and that the spaces we inhabit shape us as profoundly as the landscapes beyond them. Through light, material and form, I seek to create works that invite contemplation and offer a quiet reminder that what is most ephemeral can also leave the deepest impression.